2. Bosun
Chapter 2
Bosun
Zane
D amn. The sexiest girl I’ve ever held in my arms is looking up at me. Never mind that she practically knocked me down the stairs to the galley. Her feet settle and I let go. But I don’t want to.
Don’t shit where you eat. I play the words over and over in my head. It never ends well. Like never. Boat romances are awesome for keeping you busy and happy... until they’re not. And this is going to be one weird season. A huge boat for an owners-only tour.
Yeah, I lift my hands off her. “You good?”
“Yeah. Shit, I’m sorry. I guess I’m excited about touring the boat. I’m Haley.” She holds out her hand and I shake it, my cock twitching like a bastard at touching her again.
“Yup, you already said.” A smile crosses my lips. Damn this girl. She’s going to kill me. From her eyes to her shape. I really like girls with curves. “Zane Morris. Bosun.” I finally let go of her hand, but her other one is still on my arm from where I caught her. Neither one of us has moved our feet, and the scent of her coconut shampoo is still swirling around me.
“Haley Brewster, chief stew.” Her lip’s between her teeth, and her cheeks are flushed.
Shit, Haley might get me to forget my rules this season.
Bank over banging. Not eloquent, but a memorable rule. It’s rule number three. “I guess we’re going to be working together a lot this season.”
“I guess so.” She lets go of my arm, and already I want to pull her back to me.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t start screwing yet. At least wait until the guests have arrived.” Waldo keeps his barking laugh going.
Haley and I explode apart. I’d scowl at my secondary deckhand, but he’s too clueless to even pick up on it. “Waldo Wiseman, meet Haley Brewster.” I motion to the chief stew like a game show host.
“Charmed.” He grabs her hand and gives it an over-the-top kiss.He’s been living in Maine, though he said he’s from Ohio.
A giggle bursts from Haley, setting my cock on fire. Shit, this is going to last forever.
“Nice to meet you, Waldo.” Her eyes twinkle at him. And I want to cut his hand off or call dibs on her like my sister did with the front seat of my mom’s car as kids. But we’re adults now. So I’m totally telling him later she’s off-limits. Because, well... I’ll think of something. The poor interior crew is going to have a lot of work to do this season. And fuck me, we’re going to have to help.
Waldo gives her one of his I’m-super-charming smirks.
“Oh, you’re one to watch out for, aren’t you?” Haley’s laugh hits me in the gut.
Fuck, the last thing I need is a boat crush, and on the chief stew too. Heads of departments hooking up never works, with stews and deckhands taking sides like divorced kids figuring out where to go for Christmas when their parents split up.
“Want me to show you around, Haley?” Waldo sidles up to her.
“I’m good; there’s a ton to do. But I’m going to take a minute to get my bearings and make some lists.” Haley swallows and turns to me. “I need to get moving. This boat won’t put itself together.”
“Let me know if you could use a hand or two. Right now, it’s the five of us who did the crossing from Singapore, but I have more deck crew arriving tomorrow. Three Americans, a Brit, and an Aussie. We’re all in this together.”
“I’m super excited you feel that way. Normally I like it when the interior can help on deck too if we’re caught up on everything. But with the size of the boat and only three of us?—”
I have to cut her off. “It’s super infuriating that the primary’s fiancée is being such a jealous bitch. Seriously, we are here for you. Waldo washes dishes like a pro.”
“Just not the crystal!” Waldo grabs a slice of pizza from the crew fridge and waves as he heads to his cabin. We’re taking a twenty-minute break, the first we’ve taken in eight hours. “I need to text my girl.”
The door to our cabin clicks shut, leaving me staring at Haley. “How’d you get this gig?”
“I ran an 80 and a 75 last season. And I worked with the captain’s brother out of Aruba. It was strictly one- or two-week guest charters for most of the season. The owner came on for the last three weeks. Super nice older couple. They were in bed by nine. They’d given up drinking. So other than a breakfast smoothie and keeping their waters full, it was a total vacation. Guess I’m paying for it with these owners. No good deed and all that.” She waves her hand at the mess of boxes in the hall.
“True.” I give a nod, my eyes turning away from the curves of her hips. Shit, I’m done for. I should say okay, see you around, but instead I say, “Let me show you where the primary cabin is. Shayla’s in there. She’s been at it straight for a few days. Opening boxes and putting things away.”
“Right, the captain mentioned that too. A few days in one cabin?”
Showing her is the only way she’ll understand. I guide her up the stairs to the primary deck. “Here’s one of the larger secondary suites.” I open the cabin door and shake my head. “I’ve helped deliver a bunch of other yachts before, and they never looked like this.”
Haley darts in around me, and her mouth opens in an O. “What the heck.” She runs her hands over the plastic-covered furniture. “Everything is shrink-wrapped.”
It’s worse than that—the shrink-wrapped boxes are piled high in the room's corner, leaving no space to even tackle unpacking.
“Every room is like this?”
“Yeah, it took us a few days to get the exterior fit for sailing. And we had to get out of the harbor. It’s too busy to safely anchor.” The two nights we had a local marina were barely enough.
“Every room,” she repeats and shakes her head. “Well, it is what it is.”
“That’s one way of thinking about it.”
She squeezes in between the boxes, and I follow her. “It’s the only way to get through yachting with your sanity intact.” Haley pats my arm again. Normally, I don’t like it when people touch me. But her touch has me wanting to rub up against her like the captain’s goldendoodle.
“I guess you’re right.” I’m leaning on the side of the bed frame, and shit if she doesn’t look even better in the unlit cabin.
“I’m off to find Shayla and the primary bedroom.” She charges out of the room, turning intuitively in the correct direction, but she walks by the stairs.
“There are six suites on this level. The primary is up the stairs.”
“Six suites? Well, all right then.” She turns to go up. And we shimmy around each other. Do I need to follow her? No. But I do. “Wow.”
The grand staircase is something. “Shayla started in here before moving to the primary suite. There were boxes filling the entire space. I love the marble inlay.” I run my fingers over the edge of a credenza with a bookshelf above it. There are a lot of horse paintings and sculptures. “It’s not over the top, gaudy like some of the mega yachts.” Not that I care what the interior looks like. But I know she will.
“It’s actually kind of perfect. Not traditional but not super modern either. I guess I expected with a yacht named Rock Candy it would look like?—”
“A strip-club?”
She laughs. “Exactly!” Haley’s laugh makes me smile.
“After you.” I wave her through into the owner’s suite. Shayla isn’t in here, but a six-foot stack of boxes is teetering next to a perfectly made bed. “Shayla?”
“What?” Shayla’s muffled voice comes from the bathroom.
“She’s in the bathroom.”
Haley and I both turn toward Shayla’s voice. The place is enormous: two sinks on either end of the room, a make-up table and a massive shower with enough jets to wash an entire football team at once. Not that I played club football past year ten—I had better things to do. Not that I remember what they were now.
“Stop right there.” Shayla has her hand up palm-forward, like a policeman telling traffic to stop. “This room is almost done. It’s the only part of any cabin I’ve finished, the only part of anything I’ve finished. Back the fuck up.” She’s wearing braids tied up in a bandanna on the top of her head.
Haley laughs again.
Shayla’s eyes go wide when she sees her chief stew. “Please tell me you’re Haley. And that you are really triplets who are going to trick the owner into thinking you are less people or you’re a robot who doesn’t need any sleep?” Shayla pushes us out of the bathroom.
“I am Haley. But no to the rest of it. Although, I don’t need much sleep. The bathroom looks amazing, and hiring triplets would be a brilliant idea. We’ll have to get the captain right on that.”
“Shayla Smith, nice to meet you.” Shayla peels a rubber glove off, snaps it, and drops it in a bucket of supplies on the floor. I’m not lying when I say Shayla scares me more than a little. “Well, praise the Lord for something.” She smiles and taps a stack of boxes. “Maybe you can get the deck crew to finally help me—us—out?” Shayla throws her long arm over my shoulder and squeezes.
I smirk at her. We’ve worked on a couple of seasons together and have a love-hate relationship. She can be a lot, but so can I. “Let me get those for you, Shay.” I take the box and the rest from the floor. “Where to?”
“Main salon,” Shayla says.
“I’ll see you around, ladies.”
The two of them are chatting up a storm. Shayla either loves her chief stews or is planning their demise. And if the tables turn, I’m going to take her out. Even knowing Haley less than a few minutes, I can tell she won’t see the sort of underhanded lengths that Shayla will go to. Shayla and I have history. I don’t trust her at all.
I push the boxes up against the outside of the wall and grab my radio. “Hey Waldo, where are you?” Which I love saying because, well, one, it’s his real name. And two, every time I’ve checked up on him, he’s been working. So I don’t really need to know, I just kind of like saying it.
“Hell if I know,” comes back over the radio waves. I’m staring at the radio when he squawks back into it, “Just kidding. I’m in the storage compartment on the swim deck aft doing a water toy inventory. Can’t let the owner’s son, the golden boy, not have fun in the water.”
“Copy. Let me know if you need me. I’m heading for the dumpster.”
“Will do.”
Shit, I hope this season is a good one. Last one sucked balls for me. But then again, who enjoys watching their ex get it on with their roommate? No on-board sex, no more stews. But damn, Haley is someone I need to watch over.